Long Day
by Jysrin
Summary: Two and a half months after slow day, shit goes down on Judge Dredd's long day. M for safety
1. Long Day Part 1

Third Story begin.

* * *

Long Day

* * *

Megacity One.

Two words. Eleven letters. Eight hundred million people living within its boundary walls. Outside is a Cursed Earth, stretching all the way to Texas City in the south west, Los Angeles and Megacity Two on the West Coast. Nothing lives there, save for the mutants, and whatever primitive life that managed to cling onto existence. Inside the boundary walls could hardly be called better.

It is a Cursed City.

A thriving hive of scum and villainy, all hidden away among the innocent lives. Eight hundred million people scrambling through the ruins of the old world, and the Megastructures of the new one.

Mega Blocks. Mega Highways.

Megacity One.

The only ones protecting the innocent are the men and women of the Hall of Justice.

Juries.

Executioners.

Judges.

* * *

**DREDD**

* * *

Slow Day Part 2: Long Day

* * *

Dredd woke up at four a.m., same time as always. A heavy dose of stims cleared away the remaining grogginess from his mind as he suited up, once again ready for patrol.

And, just as two and a half months prior, an odd feeling coursed through him.

This time, however, it wasn't a feeling of slowness, no. This was a feeling of battle. Of blood and crime and unending weariness that spoke of endless recoil from his Lawgiver. A feeling... of a very, _very _Long Day.

But, this being Dredd, he quickly shook off the feeling, though he paid more attention to it than before.

Judges who didn't trust their instincts usually ended up being hauled away for recyc.

Meeting Anderson, who _still_ wasn't wearing her helmet, on the way to the garage, Dredd offered a word of advice to his painfully green (though gaining experience rapidly) partner.

"Anderson."

"Sir?"

"Be careful, I've got a bad feeling about today."

"Yes sir!"

"Good, then let's go."

Roaring out of the garage on patrol, the pair was immediately directed to a local convenience store, not far from their position. The crime in question: a 211S, robbery in progress, silent alarm triggered.

* * *

_Liang's Convenience Store, Sector 45_

* * *

The epinonymous Liang cowered behind his counter as the felons continued to ransack his store, assault his male employees, drag away his female employees, and _stain the floor with hundreds of credits worth of food, medicine, and printer cartridges_ (Because printer ink is damn expensive).

A stray thought questioning his priorities flitted through the heavyset Chinese man's head, before being swiftly crushed under the onslaught of _Oh shit_'s, _Bu hao_'s, and _Where the hell are the Judges!?_...'s.

He hadn't made the dangerous trip from Sino City One just to be murdered in his shop sixteen years later, dammit!

Flooded with adrenalin, courage, and a tiny bit of booze from earlier last night, Liang Yuan Zi Dan, three time champion in his home sector's lightweight boxing championships, master martial artist, and slightly unhinged (the stupid genius kind, not the angry drunkard kind) Chinese man swiftly pulled out the dual Glock 80s from under his counter, stood, and promptly gunned down three of the robbers before any of them could react.

At least, that's what he wished he could do. But Liang Yuan Zi Dan was just an average, somewhat overweight, guy. No guns at all, nor any mad martial arts skills. So he sat. And he cowered while his female employees were no doubt being raped, and his male workers were being battered in the aisles. Oh, and _his printer ink was being spilled all over his_ _nice, clean floors!_

* * *

_ETA: 30 seconds_

* * *

Approaching the store, Dredd received a transmission from dispatch.

_"Dredd, the 211 is now also a 217, a 240, a 261, a 217, a 217K, and a possible 187 in progress. Be careful."_

"Understood."

Parking in front of the store, Dredd began his announcement.

"To the criminal scum inside! Surrender now, and I can guarantee you all a five year sentence in the Isocubes with no chance of parole! Failure to comply will result in death!"

No answers.

Then, a gunshot, a short scream, and a body was flung from the third floor, impacting right at the Judges' feet.

It was a female, obviously raped. Dead from a gunshot to the forehead, still bleeding. Naked, save for a few shreds of clothing that marked her as an employee. Judging from the battered name tag, also the owner's daughter, perhaps wife.

"Dispatch, we need a meatwagon on my GPS. One for recyc."

_"Understood. Will you need backup?"_

"Negative."

Marching up towards the doors of the convenience store, Dredd caught a momentary glimpse of multiple men running behind cover, before his view was blocked by something, presumable some kind of barricade.

"Anderson. Situation?"

"Sir, we've got at least twenty hostiles scattered throughout the first floor, three on the second, and ten on the third. I'm sensing at least twelve hostages, one of which is the owner. All of them are armed, mix of low and high caliber weaponry."

"Plan?"

"Gas and stun grenades?"

"On my mark."

Readying several grenades, Dredd silently thanked himself for packing at least three times as much gear today. No one had even questioned his taking a Widowmaker 2000, or an Arbitrator. Dredd was notorious for his overkill. And in a law enforcement agency like the Hall of Justice, that was saying something.

"High Ex!"

Launching forward, the explosive bullet tore straight through the barricade, peppering any exposed felon with shrapnel, and filling their sorry faces with fire.

Then the gas rolled in.

The felons fell like grass before the mower, not able to put up much of a fight, though some scored a few lucky grazes.

After cutting free the male hostages, and helping the female, Judge spoke again.

"Dispatch, send an ambulance to my GPS, multiple wounded. Twenty hostiles for recyc."

_"Affirmative, sending ambulance and meatwagon."_

Continuing on, Dredd and Anderson found the owner hunched behind his counter, already dead.

"Must have shot him after we blew the doors. Let's go."

"Sir!"

The rest of the building went much the same way, some casualties, but mostly in the case of the criminals.

Total time: thirty minutes, start to finish.

Dredd had a feeling it wasn't the last crime they'd have to stop that day.

* * *

A/N: This is a direct sequel to Slow Day. As you may have noticed, it is also a lot longer than Slow Day.

Not much else to say, though when I was typing the intro to the chapter, I physically had to stop myself from typing 'hundred' as 'hundredd' y'know, because it's a stupid pun.


	2. Long Day Part 2: Long Day Harder

Le Second Chapter

* * *

_5:03 a.m. Sector 13 Dispatch_

* * *

Dredd and Anderson were tired already. This in itself would be cause for alarm, if they hadn't stopped at least forty minor crimes in progress on the way back to Dispatch.

Firing a Lawgiver over two hundred times while on a motorcycle over the course of a half hour would tire out most Judges. Except Dredd. He took not two hundred, but _six_ hundred shots, given that he rode in the front.

His arm was starting to get sore, dammit.

_"All units, we have a 505A in progress, suspected 502. All Judges, please respond. The perps are headed north through Sector Thirteen. All units, do you copy?"_

"Dispatch, this is Dredd and Anderson. We got this one."

_"Affirmative. Dredd and Anderson on 505A in progress."_

"Let's go."

Roaring through the streets of Sector Thirteen, Dredd took stock of his weaponry. In the five or so minutes that they had to rest, he had picked up even _more _ammo, weapons and assorted other gear.

The full count included one fully loaded Lawgiver, sixteen extra magazines for said Lawgiver, a Widowmaker automatic shotgun, two cases of extra shells, an Arbitrator shotgun, three cases of extra shells, seventeen gas grenades, fourteen stun grenades, two knives, brass-taser knuckles (for extra subduing power), two daysticks (because beating the shit out of perps with a titanium cored baseball bat is remarkably effective), a Spit Carbines, two Spit Pistols, a Spit Gun, and a Spit Cannon. Most of the heavier stuff was stashed in his Lawmaster. Dredd was prepared for overkill, not stupid.

Quickly reaching the coordinates, Dredd immediately spotted the perps weaving in and out of traffic in their beat-up van, most likely salvaged from the local scrapyard from the looks of it.

"Anderson, Sitrep."

"Four perps, two intoxicated, one under the influence of narcotics, the last unconscious in the back left seat. No weapons detected. Seems to just be a routine bout of drunken stupidity, sir."

"Good to know."

With that, Dredd activated his bike's sirens, immediately causing the driver to swerve towards the side of the road.

"Sir, the driver is panicking."

"He should be."

Pulling up to the van, Dredd strode forward, Lawgiver in hand.

"You four are under arrest for driving under the influence of narcotics and or alcohol. Sentence is four weeks in the Isocubes. Failure to comply will result in death."

"O-oh a-alright... but leave my friend outta this, he's just sleeping off a hangover, we're the ones doin' the crime."

"Defense noted. Anderson?"

"He's telling the truth."

"What's your friend's name?"

"J-jimmy, sir."

"He goes free. The rest of you stay put."

Cuffing the drunken and drugged up ruffians, Dredd hooked them to a nearby lamp post and shook the sleeper awake.

"Huh? Ah me head! Turn down th' bloody sun!"

"Your friends have been arrested. Keep watch over them until a unit arrives to haul them away. Running away will count as a felony and you will be arrested. Understood?"

"Y'sir! Got anythin' fer me headache?"

"No."

"Thought not."

"Dispatch, situation has been neutralized. Send a unit to my GPS, three for the Isocubes. Four week sentence."

_"Affirmative. Sending a unit now."_

"Anderson, let's go."

"Sir!"

Tearing away from the scene, Dredd and Anderson received their next call all too soon: a 444 and a 1024 in Sector 32. There was a gang war going on, and there were Judges in need of backup.

* * *

A/N: Not much plot and action, I know. But, I'm setting it up, 'kay?

It'll get better, promise.


	3. Long Day 3: Stun Round Boogaloo

Chapter 3 HOOOOOOO!

* * *

Long Day 3: Stun Round Boogaloo

* * *

_7:45 a.m. Sector 32 Dispatch Station_

* * *

Dredd was now mildly concerned.

Given a man of his repute, mildly concerned with him was more along the lines of pants shitting terror for the average citizen.

Why? Because his partner, Judge Anderson, the Rookie, just got transferred away, Control's only justification being that the city needed more firepower.

This left Dredd heading into a gang war on his own, with presumably wounded and/or dead Judges in need of backup.

Once again, he thanked himself for his constant re-stocking.

Roaring away, Dredd immediately found himself in the middle of a massive war zone, bullets flying through the bodies of the unfortunate, gang members pinning each other down with heavy machine-gun fire, more gang members suicide bombing the other factions' barricades, too doped up to fear for their lives. It was, quite frankly, Hell on Earth.

But Judge Dredd had seen worse.

Dismounting, he picked up his massive Spit Cannon off of the back of his Lawmaster, and started laying down some hot, metallic Justice. Tearing through criminal after criminal, Dredd quickly drew the attention of every faction in the entire area, with members from the Angel Gang, the Peyote Kings, the Judged, the Bodysharks, the bare bones of the rest of the Ma-Ma Clan, the Jets, the Sharks, the Corleone Family, Hotel Moscow, the Axe Gang, the Crazy 88s, the Rockets, Aqua, Magma, Galactic, Plasma, the Ballas, the Grove Street Families, the Jokerz, 3rd Street Saints, the list went on.

It was the worst gang war ever recorded in Megacity One. But Dredd didn't care. Dredd just kept firing on the poor sons o' bitches that blatantly broke, in front of him mind you, enough laws to warrant a death sentence on the spot. Five minutes into the fight, and hundreds of gang members laid dead, some gangs put down in their entirety.

When the fire died down, Dredd said his first words in the entire fight:

"Citizens of Sector 32. Your include multiple homicide, the use of narcotics, and the attempted murder of a Judge. The sentence... is Death."

And rioting ensued.

"Oh shit! Run!"

"Fuck you Judge! Get him boys!"

"这样的讨厌的人。好，我的兄弟！杀了他！"*

"Кто, черт возьми, это мудак? Статистика его мертвым!"*

"He ain't got shit on us! Let's kill 'im!"

Dredd frowned. Dredd fired. Criminals started dying. Blood started flying.

And thirty seconds of continuous fire later, the entire street was cleared. Of course, there was the rest of the area to clear. _That_ encompassed another twelve blocks, and one large Block.

Dredd swore in his head, "This is Dredd, Sector 13! I received your 1024, what is your status?"

Inside a ruined parking garage, a hand waved into view, and a voice crackled in over his comm, _"Clark, Sector 43! My partner is wounded, broken leg; I'm fine, couple scrapes. Thanks for the back-up. We ran out of ammo, got any more?"_

"Yeah. Sit tight."

Yanking out one of his many spare cases of ammo, Dredd pulled out enough magazines to fill two Lawgivers and have three reloads each. Pocketing said magazines and setting his Spit Cannon to auto-turret, Dredd strode through the mounds of rubble and corpses, ignoring the sounds of gang fighting in the distance. The gangs would keep fighting, Judges in trouble were always of priority.

Of course, bad things happen to those that ignore the unpredictability of incredibly like-minded people.

"There's a Judge over there!"

"_Shit_."

Now running to avoid the waves of bullets and makeshift explosives lobbed at him, Dredd couldn't help but curse today; it was, after all, a much more intense day than usual, and Dredd couldn't help but wonder why.

No. No time for that, cover first, there was precious cargo to be delivered to the injured Judges some three stories up.

* * *

Inside the Parking Complex, Judge Clark and his partner, Judge Larson, waited with baited breath; Dredd was taking an awful long time to get to their position, and the sounds of gunfire and explosives didn't help.

"Oh stomm that hurts!"

"Dammit Larson, pull it together! We've already done as much as we can, now all we can do is hope we get out of thi– Get Down!"

Ducking, the pair of Judges realized that there was a sniper on the roof adjacent to their position.

"Shit, gotta warn Dredd!"

* * *

_"Dredd, we got a sniper! Roof directly adjacent to our position, your three o' clock, four stories up, third broken window from the left!"_

"I see him."

Whipping out his trusty Lawgiver, Dredd aimed, and with a barked command of, "High Ex!" blew the poor criminal scum out of his perch, directly onto a crate of some _volatile _materials.

Turning from the explosion, Dredd used the distraction to his advantage, and began making his way up the floors of the garage.

* * *

"He got 'im"

"He's Judge Dredd, of course he did. Guy's a fucking tank."

"Yup. Leg feeling better?"

"Still feels like shit."

"Well damn. Wait, shouldn't we have called in for a medic too?"

"Shit."

"Maybe Dredd took care of it for us."

"If he didn't, I can't. My comm is shot to hell, short-range only."

"Same here. After I called base, long-range got fried."

* * *

"Control, we need and evac, one wounded Judge."

_"Roger that Dredd, we are on our way."_

Second floor, no apparent hostiles. Dredd passed without incident.

Third floor, wounded Judge, healthy Judge.

"I called in a medical evac, Larson. You'll be fine. Clark, you're with me. Control:"

_"We copy, Dredd. Situation?"_

"Send the Evac to my GPS. We got the situation handled."

_"Roger that Dredd, evac is on its way."_

* * *

_A/N_: Well, that went well. Conclusion of the gang war is next. Also, some plot points.


End file.
